


this year too

by teahex



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mentioned sakuatsu, New Year's Eve, New Years, Rated teen for mild swearing, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teahex/pseuds/teahex
Summary: Speckles of light danced across the comfortable scene in the bar, illuminating enough to allow navigation of the small establishment. The glow was too yellow to be flattering on the skin, and the placement of the uncovered bulbs hanging from the ceiling also cast severe shadows across the faces of all the patrons. None of the building’s occupants had come for the purpose of obtaining flawless pictures for social media or impressing a first-time date, though.A roughly two-day lead up to one of those clear New Year’s Eve nights that are perfect for catching a star.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	this year too

**Author's Note:**

> I was itching to write something short and sweet for posting to start the year off right. So I threw a dart at a few options (told my best friend to pick a random ship with no context) then took a cheese grater to my brain and constructed this from the resulting shavings. I don’t normally do seasonal writing or art, but this year has certainly been different. This is one of the few holidays that I actually enjoy. Just something silly and self-indulgent. Thanks for reading! Happy Halloween

Speckles of light danced across the comfortable scene in the bar, illuminating enough to allow navigation of the small establishment. The glow was too yellow to be flattering on the skin, and the placement of the uncovered bulbs hanging from the ceiling also cast severe shadows across the faces of all the patrons. None of the building’s occupants had come for the purpose of obtaining flawless pictures for social media or impressing a first-time date, though.

This was the site of casual gatherings after work or meetings with friends who were visiting from distant cities. The scrape of chopsticks against bowls and the clunk of glasses haphazardly returned to tabletops acted as a background track to the hum of satisfied guests. The buzz of amicable conversation was an indicator of comfortable familiarity between the members of various parties as well as with the setting itself.

Crowded around two tables were Osaka’s MSBY Black Jackals players, otherwise known as the bar’s most consistent visitors. The voices of excitable athletes rose and fell, a steady pulse in the heart of the evening crowd. The flow of easygoing banter, despite being predictably noisy and fast-paced, was relaxing. Time spent in the company of friends was simply an essential element of everyone’s personal routines. Located conveniently close to their training facilities, the bar naturally became the backdrop to their group leisure.

Atsumu, several drinks past too many in, slammed a hand against the surface of the table where he, Sakusa, Hinata, and Bokuto were seated. Their dishes rattled with the force of it. This was followed by a jab with his elbow to Sakusa’s upper arm, to which Sakusa reacted with a pained expression not unlike how one might look upon biting directly into a lemon.

“Give me a hand here, guys,” Atsumu pleaded. “I have two days to convince this asshole to wear a kimono to the shrine this year.”

“It’s really not necessary,” Sakusa stated, flat tone making it impossible to think that he even cared one way or the other.

“Omi,” Atsumu whined, stretching the syllables between his lips. Meian raised an eyebrow at them from the table over but didn’t intervene, having long ago acquainted himself with the dramatics afforded by his teammates to the most mundane matters.

“You don’t wear one either,” Sakusa added. He sipped at a glass of water before replacing it on the table, resigned to sobering up enough to manhandle Atsumu to the train station, onto the train, off the train at their stop, and into their shared apartment.

“This is about you, not me.” Atsumu shamelessly wrapped his arms around Sakusa’s shoulders, hanging off him like one of the jackets stored in their cramped closet at home. All of which Sakusa typically placed on their hangers after watching Atsumu abandon them on the floor or over the backs of unwitting pieces of furniture. “Please, Omi, grace me with the sight of you in your sexy traditional wear.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes, giving a long-suffering stare a random spot on the wall to his left. Cherry blossom pink painted his cheeks to match the flush that colored Atsumu’s face and neck. Whether it was residual from his earlier drinking or a product of something else was left up to interpretation.

Doing the first shrine visit of the year with a loved one was an unattainable luxury when said loved one was approximately five hundred kilometers away and working self-imposed overtime during a holiday. That had been the recurring situation on the previous two New Year's Days for a couple not blessed with the same physical proximity that Atsumu and Sakusa enjoyed. They instead engaged in the subpar alternative of video calling, trading the issue of fashion choices for poor internet connectivity and longing.

::

The bulb in Akaashi's plastic desk lamp stumbled into what he had planned to be his last hour of work for the night before collapsing and dying faced own in a ditch right next to the most critical moment. Akaashi was subsequently shoved into darkness, reminding him that he had long passed the time of night when Udai would have scolded him for disregarding his health. The drafts on his desk that he had been reviewing previously were replaced with a black void. He easily could have mistaken it for a magnified version of the pen strokes on the papers in front of him, too close to distinguish more than endless ink.

Akaashi fumbled for his phone, which was balanced precariously on the corner of his desk. When he had it in hand, he woke the screen and turned on the flashlight. It would have to suffice until he could buy new light bulbs the next day. Before Akaashi could prop the phone against the temporarily useless lamp, his phone-turned-light-source sang the distinct ringtone that he had assigned to boyfriend.

Akaashi picked up on the second ring, flashlight still on. "Bokuto."

"'Kaashi," Bokuto greeted, voice given a slightly robotic quality by the minor electronic distortion from speaking over a phone.

"Home already? How was the bar?" Akaashi switched the call to speaker and began attempting to position his phone against the lamp.

"The bar?" There was a fuzzy noise from Bokuto's end of the call, possibly from the phone being dragged against something. Akaashi imagined Bokuto switching the phone between his hands, trying to settle it in a comfortable position as he busied himself with cleaning or cooking or preparing to go to sleep. "Oh yeah! That was yesterday. It was fun. Tsum-Tsum got super drunk and complained about Omi for, like, an hour. He really wants to see Omi in a kimono, which reminds me why I wanted to talk. I was thinking that we could do that too. Wear kimono. Just for the video call. I know you don't want me to spend money to visit and you’re really busy, but it’s such a waste for our kimono to go unused. They deserve at least one good use every year."

Akaashi had given up on trying to work while listening to Bokuto. Instead, he had turned off the flashlight on his phone and then relocated himself and his phone to the futon on the floor. His brain struggled to catch up with the collection of sentences Bokuto had poured over him after having been distracted by the task of moving.

“Video call,” Akaashi echoed. He turned his head so he could look up and out the window. In the heart of Tokyo, he couldn’t make out any stars. “Wait, what day is it?”

“Wednesday,” Bokuto supplied. A second voice drifted through the speaker, too far away from Bokuto’s end for Akaashi to identify individual words. “Shouyou says hi.”

Akaashi placed the numbers in a neat row, regretting his inability to do math or keep track of time when he was consumed by work. He tried to remember the last time he had called Bokuto or texted Udai.

“Oh shit.” Akaashi rubbed at his eyes, trying to ward off the creeping form of his own thoughts threatening to take hold of him. The darkness of his room seemed to take shape, a murky cloud. Poisonous. “I’m so sorry, Bokuto.”

“Sorry? What for, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto said something else away from the phone. Maybe bidding Hinata goodnight. After a few seconds, Akaashi heard the thump of a door closing.

“I don’t think I can do the call.” Akaashi reprimanded himself for not saying things in the proper order. “It’s- Well, there’s a lot- The deadline.”

Silence answered Akaashi’s admission. Akaashi imagined Bokuto laying on his bed and looking at the ceiling. His arms were raised, hands under his head. His phone was cradled between his shoulder and cheek. The lights were on because he had ceiling lights with fresh bulbs rather than a few neglected lamps.

“It’s okay, Keiji,” Bokuto finally said, voice low and gentle. Soothing the unacknowledged beast clinging to Akaashi's shoulder. “Well, not okay, but I’m not mad at you. Just a bit bummed. It’ll be okay, though.”

“I’m sorry, Koutarou,” Akaashi insisted. He couldn’t tell if he actually meant the words coming out of his mouth. Did he want Bokuto to know that he genuinely cared about the sparse time they were able to spend together? Was he trying to convince Bokuto of that? Was he trying to reassure himself that he wasn't a terrible boyfriend?

“What about Saturday? We could just do it a day late and not in the middle of the night,” Bokuto suggested.

Akaashi closed his eyes. It didn’t feel any different than staring into the unseeable depths of his room. Maybe more contained. “Sure, Bokuto. I think I’ll be done by Friday afternoon.”

Matter settled, they exchanged several pleasantries. The meals they had eaten during the day. The botched last date of the year that Atsumu had taken Sakusa on. The harmless fall Udai had taken on the last three stairs into a subway station in his haste to meet the older Tsukishima and Tanaka for drinks. They concluded with a promise to talk on Saturday.

When the line went quiet for the night, Akaashi pushed his phone across the floor so it was out of reach. He would wake up on the last day of the year and leave the apartment just long enough to buy new light bulbs for his lamps and prepackaged food for breakfast. Then he would return home to finish at least half of the work he wanted done by the time he next saw Udai.

Sleep claimed him with the promise of shooting stars to wish on. Given the chance, he would wish for Bokuto. An orderly pile of completed work. A clean sheet of snow. Kimono so blue they were almost black. The crowds of other people intending to ask for luck for the new year.

::

The tap of shoes and scrape of suitcases kept a steady beat, counting seconds that morphed into minutes that struggled to stack into a full hour. The rumble of wheels on tracks and air being pulled in provided a constant melody to hum along to. A steady voice announced that the next train was arriving.

When it pulled up to the platform, the doors slid open and exhaled commuters who had come from cities of all distances away. In the next breath, people leaving Osaka poured into its metal body. Finding a seat was a simple task. Other passengers busied themselves with phones or books or hushed conversations.

The trip itself was uneventful, having grown uninteresting after the first few rounds in the early stages of the relationship. Sprawling city giving way to spacious fields and so on. Endless blue sky was the common motif. It didn’t pass quickly, but it also wasn’t sluggish.

At the intended destination, a similar station greeted the train. Metal doors opened to reveal lines of travelers. Rolling suitcases and the footsteps guiding them. Detached announcements of train schedules.

What was one to do to make themselves scarce in Tokyo for half a day? There were countless people. It wouldn’t be impossible to get lost in the end-of-year bustle. Fade away. Check the phone for messages. Buy food to make the waiting bearable. Keep a secret. Don’t spoil the surprise.

::

A stretch of the arms over the head loosened the deathly grip of overtime. Akaashi rolled his head to the right and then to the left. Arched his back. Stood and stretched his arms again. His back popped. He blinked down at the drafts on his desk.

Akaashi had intended to finish half of his responsibilities and then save the rest for the next day. However, the rhythm of reading and editing had mesmerized Akaashi for the entirety of the day. By the time he had taken note of the clock, it seemed better to just finish everything and use the first day of the new year to relax.

He was overdue for a break, though. It wouldn’t be too detrimental to his plans to escape his apartment and enjoy some fresh air. Although he had cancelled his video call with Bokuto, a surprise phone call only seemed fair. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Bokuto.

Once Akaashi was outside, his eyes wandered to the inky sky above. It was a blue that bordered on black. The light of a city still awake drowned out the stars. Akaashi’s breath, cold in the winter night, curled across his vision in misty clouds.

Akaashi thought of snow and New Year’s shrine visits. Of rarely worn kimono. Of his own shooting star just close enough to brush with his fingertips.

“Keiji,” an unmistakable voice called.

Akaashi froze, one hand in his back pocket to retrieve his phone and the other adjusting the glasses on his face. His gaze slid off the smooth night sky and dodged sharp building edges, sticking a landing on the figure stopped on the sidewalk several feet away. Standing there looking to be exactly where he belonged was the brightest thing Akaashi had seen in the past forty-eight hours.

**Author's Note:**

> 読んでくれてありがとうございま！あけましておめでとうございます！今年もよろしくお願いします。 (Thank you for reading! Happy New Year! Let work together again this year, too). The title is actually a reference to this New Year's greetings.
> 
> Thank you for spending some time in the same corner of the internet as me. I will now have to direct you out of my house until my next fic. In the meantime, you can perceive my pitiful existence through the window at [Twitter](https://twitter.com/teahex).


End file.
